Ishbal
by lizzington95
Summary: A discussion between then Major Mustang and Private Hawkeye after they meet in Ishbal. Kinda Riza-centric. Hints of Royai


Riza gasped in shock as a hand snaked out and pulled her between the rough wooden buildings they were supposed to call a Mess and a Command. She looked up into the face of her assailant as she reached for the knife she kept at the back of her belt and froze when she recognised the haggard face of the Flame Alchemist.

"Major?"  
"Why are you here?" It was a growl. He was angry. She could see it so clearly in his dark eyes. They burned like his alchemy, burning holes into her as he demanded answers. "Why the _hell_ are you here?"

"Do you ask that of every Private?" She kept her voice low, with just a hint of tease. The way she spoke to him when he was her fathers' student; when they were still innocent children; when she'd never dreamed he would look at her like this.  
"Don't."  
_No longer a growl, at least_, she thought with relief. His voice had softened into a stark command.  
"Don't you dare talk to me like we're still stood in your damned kitchen! You aren't meant to be here!"

She simply stares into his eyes. They are a cavernous window into his head and his heart. The dark caverns are filled with despair. It turns her cold. She had never meant her decisions to cause him pain – in truth, she had never expected to find him here.

"Goddamnit Riza!"

He still called her Riza. Hawkeye was her still fathers' name to him. He had told her once that calling her Hawkeye seemed silly to him, because she was so much more feminine that the fierce name. She idly wondered if he still thought her feminine, here in this desert, dressed in an androgynous blue uniform with the blood of innocents splattered all over her soul.

"If I'm not meant to be here, then what about you?" She finds her voice again and is thankful that it remains steady. "This is hardly the place for an idealist, Major."  
His eyes flash dangerously as she calls him by his rank again. It is another reminder of all he has lost.

"Answer the question _Private_. Why are you here? You're meant to be safely back home, quietly mourning your father."  
Riza pulled away from his grasp causing a small cloud of sand to spring up about her feet; to be touched by him in even the most platonic of ways suddenly reminds her of the secret she carries and how his hand trembled as he touched it.

"I'm here because-" she paused, sighing. Could she really say that she'd followed _him_ here? That she was here to protect _him_? "Because of the secret we share." She says instead. A plausible lie.

His face falls pitifully. And she instantly regrets the lie. Better for her to suffer some embarrassment than for him to suffer pain.

"Hardly the use you wanted me to put it to, is it?" He asks, laughing ironically. "Not really the way I had planned on changing things. But I'll do it, Riza, I promise." Roy looks at her so earnestly, and it really is _Roy_. It isn't the Major, or the State Alchemist, that she is speaking with now. Those protective layers have been drawn back to reveal what remains of the boy who left. "Once I'm out of here, I'm going to change things. If I can get high enough – I can change the way this country functions. I can make things _better_ Riza." Those dark caverns are filled with longing now; longing and hope breaking through the despair.

She allows her face to soften, dredging up the best smile she can muster when the faces of her dead are still so fresh.  
"I know you will, Roy." She says softly, laying her hand on his arm. "I still believe in you."

Despite the fact it was her who initiated the contact, she still stiffens when his hand finds her cheek. For a cheek is so much more intimate and so much closer to breaking regulations than a bicep.

"This doesn't mean I've forgiven you for following me here."  
His voice has changed yet again; now a soft and tender thing, to match his soft and tender touch. She knows he saw the surprise in her eyes when he chuckles roughly.  
"Seriously, Private, it was bloody stupid of you."  
Her eyes drop away from his face to their boots.

"I know sir. Sorry sir."  
His hand urges her face upwards to lock gazes again.  
"Just for now, don't be sorry. I think I needed this."

He has managed to approximate a smile for her, so she does the same for him. Just for a second, they have a beautiful moment; her hand on his arm, his hand on her face, smiling at each other. Just for a second, the bloodshed and the guilt seem so very far away. Just for a second, they can pretend that they remain the innocent children they once were.


End file.
